convent; if she were not there, I should not be afraid."

"And is there no other hotel you could go to?"

"I should not like to go to another," said Madelon, "they
would be all strange; I would rather go to Madame Bertrand,
and I should not have to stay there long."

"And then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know--I am not sure," answered Madelon, rather
embarrassed. "I shall write to a friend I have--Monsieur
Horace, you know--and he will tell me what to do."

"And why do you not write to him at once, _mon enfant?_"

"I cannot," was all Madelon's answer, nor could Jeanne-Marie
ever extract any further explanation on that point. The next
day Jeanne-Marie was missing from the restaurant for some
hours; but she reappeared in the afternoon, and presently came
out into the garden, where Madelon, seated in her favourite
corner, was nursing a big cat, and sorting out herbs for
drying.

"What a long time you have been away!" she said, as Jeanne-
Marie came up to her. "See, I have done all these; I think
there are enough to last you all the winter."

"Not quite," answered the woman; "bur never mind them now. Do
you want to know where I have been? I have been to Spa, and
seen Madame Bertrand."

"Have you?" cried Madelon; "did you tell her about me? Was
Mademoiselle Henriette there?"

"Mademoiselle Henriette is gone; she and her aunt had a grand
quarrel, and she left, and so Madame Bertrand is alone again.
I told her all about you: she said she was glad you had not
gone back to the convent, and that you could go to her
whenever you wished, for she would take care of you. So as
your work is done," Jeanne-Marie added with a sigh, "there is
nothing to keep you, and you may go as soon as you like."

"May I" cried Madelon; "to-morrow, next day? Ah! Jeanne-Marie,
how happy you have made me; you will know why, you will
understand some day--tell me when I shall go."

"We will say the day after to-morrow. I will get your things
ready," answered Jeanne-Marie. She stood gazing at the child
for a moment, as if she would have said something more, then
turned away quickly and entered the house.

Madelon never thought of connecting Jeanne-Marie's sad looks
and ways with her own departure; and indeed, hardly noticed
them, in her joy at having accomplished her task, and earned
the longed-for thirty francs. She did not understand nor
suspect the woman's passionate longing for her affection; no
child can comprehend that s